


Roguish Hawke

by RavenCall70



Series: Legends of Kirkwall [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anger, Blue-Purple Hawke, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Non-Consensual, Surprise Kissing, Worry, fenhawke - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 12:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13099869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenCall70/pseuds/RavenCall70
Summary: Morgan Hawke's pining for the angsty Tevinter elf leads him to the Hanged Man, too much to drink and an angry confrontation





	Roguish Hawke

The elf was prickly, he was dangerous and lethal, unpredictable even. And yet, and yet. His voice did things to him, not just below the waist, which tightened and throbbed with unimaginable yearning and need, but in his heart where he imagined butterflies took wing. It made it hard to breath while he struggled to hide the effect of the elf's voice on his body. 

Even in his mind, his thoughts were affected, where images of those emerald green eyes would look at him with matching desire, need and affection. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, there was no denying his reaction to the elven warrior. He was gorgeous, beautiful and altogether so unreachable as to be cast as little more than forbidden fruit, a temptation to savour and devour with the senses but never to touch, never to hold. 

It wasn't the first time he was grateful for not being a mage like his sister and his father, but it was the first time he thanked the Maker for this small blessing. He couldn't imagine how devastated he would have been if he had been, especially after hearing how deeply ingrained the elf's hatred of mages was. 

He had made a mistake in the Deep Roads when he'd brought both the elf and the spirit-mage. He hadn't yet known how deep the elf's animosity for magic was, he'd merely wanted the elf with him and had needed a healer, especially since he'd never planned to bring his sister. Though the elf made no comment during their time below the surface, he could tell it was because he feared rejection. 

Back in Kirkwall, that sense hadn't left him. In fact, it had downright annoyed and irritated him that the elf clearly believed himself unworthy of friendship or loyalty. Someone had taught him that belief, the same someone who had used him, carved the lyrium tattoos into his living flesh, erased his memories and abused him in ways he didn't like imagining. 

He brooded about the elf for months after that, Varric's nickname bringing a snort of derision and frustration from him. If only the dwarf knew how much he brooded when he was alone in his room at the newly purchased Amell estate. He sometimes thought he was worse than a woman for how often he caught himself thinking of the elf. How he hated the elf's former master, a hatred that grew with each passing week. At times it became difficult to hide, though his frequent encounters with bandits, slavers and blood mages provided an outlet and a focus for the unwelcome emotions. 

Four years later, that former master provided just the kind of outlet he'd been waiting for. Watching Fenris plunge his hand into Hadriana's chest had given him a proud satisfaction to see the elf claim his victory and his freedom without cowering or allowing the blood mage to get inside his head.

He knew as soon as the words left his mouth, he'd made a mistake. It hadn't been a conscious decision as he'd still been revelling in seeing Fenris take back his freedom. 

"Do not comfort me!" Fenris snarled. "What has magic touched that it hasn't destroyed? I need to go. I'm... sorry."

For a long moment he couldn't speak, all his words jumbling together in his mind until the moment was gone and so was Fenris. Morgan had known he was inadequate to the job but never had he felt such failure as he did on the walk back to Kirkwall. 

He'd wanted to say that magic hadn't destroyed Fenris for he lived, but it felt wrong to say, for in many ways it had. He'd wanted to correct him, tell him vehemently he had nothing to apologize for as it was he who had spoken wrong. He returned to Hightown alone having bid goodbye to Merrill and Varric in Lowtown. The dwarf had looked at him with concern, but he'd merely given him a rueful shrug and promised to see him tomorrow.

Back at the estate he'd shared dinner with his mother, giving vague and non-committal answers to her questions regarding the day's adventures. After a while, she'd given up, filling the silence with talk of simple things and he'd smiled at her in gratitude. Later she'd kissed his forehead and gone to bed, gently reminding him to stop being so hard on himself. Once she'd gone, he'd begun drinking, hoping it might drown out his desire for Fenris, his self-recrimination for speaking wrongly and shake off his desperate need to hear the elf's voice. 

When Fenris showed up quite unexpectedly soon after, he hoped his indulgence didn't show. He was embarrassed to be caught with his inhibitions weakened and worried it might give away his attraction to the man. But Fenris wasn't really listening, still trapped and haunted by his past and left soon after. 

"We're friends Fenris." He said, desperate to keep the elf from fleeing without demanding he stay.

"I'm not certain I know what that means." Fenris whispered as he fled the mansion. 

Such simple words spoken with such pain and confusion had his heart clenching in pain and anger on the elf's behalf. He returned to the study then, downing two more glasses of brandy before dragging his weary self to bed.

Two weeks later, Fenris appeared in his foyer, much the same as before but carrying a tension and intensity he'd never seen before. His heart fluttered in his chest anew as he caught the distinct look of hunger in the elf's eyes.

"Command me to go and I shall."

"No need." He whipered, his lips unable to form any other words as the elf laid claim to his mouth with a desperate, need-filled kiss. His mind warred with his heart, demanding he end this, reminding him the elf knew not what he was doing. But Morgan was beyond reason and thought as his manhood hardened painfully and the hard press of Fenris' desire ground into his thigh.

With kisses of desperation and long suppressed desire, he led the elf to his bed. As they stripped each other and stood naked, their bodies pressed together in need, a final clear thought to end this reared it's head, only to vanish when Fenris took his hard length in hand and began to stroke.

They fell to the bed, a tangle of limbs and desire, Fenris looming over him as he nuzzled and licked his way down Morgan's body. He moaned and pleaded nonsensical words as the elf rained kisses down him, stopping to flick a tongue over the tip of his length, drawing a hissing keen of need from his lips. But a voice inside told him not to indulge the want and gently as he could, he reversed their position and instead took the elf into his own mouth. 

It was the right thing to do as the tension he'd sensed in Fenris vanished under his ministrations, his brief protest and surprise dying as he let himself drown in the pleasure Morgan drew from his body. 

He was desperate to have Fenris inside him and though his desire begged him, his mind refused. He knew the elf wasn't ready despite his cries of pleasure and so he settled instead for grinding their lengths together in imitation of what he most longed for. By the look of wonder, surprise and pleasure on Fenris' face as he kissed him, sliding his shaft along the elf's, he knew he'd made the right choice. 

Their moans and sighs and grunts of exertion reached a climax and a wave of such intense pleasure, it was all Morgan could do to keep from crushing the elf beneath him as his arms gave out. When he rose from the bed to get a cloth to clean them both, he didnt miss how Fenris tensed beside him. 

He returned quickly, masking his anger at Fenris' former master as he gently cleaned up the mess left behind from their exertions. He climbed back into bed, settling beside the elf who once more was tense at his side. It lasted less than a minute but Morgan felt it and knew he'd done right by Fenris even as he knew the elf still wasn't ready. 

When he woke later to an empty bed and Fenris standing pensively before the fireplace his heart sank, but he was not surprised. 

"Perhaps you don't understand how difficult this is." Fenris protested, his voice filled with pain and longing, but unable to hide the loneliness he suffered.

Morgan rose from the bed, donning a robe both to ease his own discomfort and to eliminate any threat Fenris might perceive in the sight of a naked man. "I understand Fenris and I understand how hard this is for you. Please do not mistake my understanding for pity because that is not it. I ache for the pain you've suffered and the pain you suffer still. I wish with all my heart I could take it from you, but I am just a man. Instead I want you to know I am here for you, whatever you need. I don't expect anything from you in return other than your friendship. I know how hard that is for you to accept, but I speak the truth. I will never ask anything of you that you do not wish to give. I want you to know I feel blessed and honoured by the gift you gave me tonight and even if it is to be the last, I will treasure it forever."

The look Fenris gave him in that moment was seared in his mind. He'd known he was saying too much but had been unable to stop. Too long had he wanted to give voice to his heart and now they poured from him like a stream. 

Fenris' eyes had grown wide with wonder and confusion and Morgan saw clearly how he sought to seek out the lie or trick in his words. Failing that he was struck speechless. 

"I'm sorry Fenris. I didn't mean to cause you distress." He stammered. 

"You have nothing to apologize for Hawke. But I should go. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize Fenris, it's all right. I'll still be here tomorrow."

"I... goodnight Hawke."

After Fenris left he went to the study, drinking down two glasses of Tevinter red before returning to his bed. He was both sad and happy regarding the night's events, but it was bittersweet since he knew Fenris was still far from relieving himself of his personal demons. 

A month passed and then a year, and Fenris had shown no inclination to returning to him, yet he also did not leave. If anything, he saw the elf more frequently now than he had the first four years though it remained bittersweet. 

When his mother died, Fenris was there. Though the elf had no experience with personal loss, Morgan was more than grateful and pleased he'd made the effort. Though the way his mother died was horrific and hateful, Morgan was no stranger to death and loss. He found Fenris' inexperience in this area to be of great comfort, his silence welcome in place of the usual well-meaning words and gestures which always rang hollow and were more about the speaker than the one who'd suffered the loss. 

A few months later, the stress of his role in Kirkwall and his crushing sense of loneliness had become more than he could bare. He began spending more and more time at the Hanged Man, trading barbs and innuendos with Anders and Isabella equally. 

It was on one of these nights when Fenris hadn't joined them when Anders offered to walk him home. Feeling weak and desperate and altogether incapable of walking home unaided, he accepted, ignoring the pointed stare Varric levelled at him as he rose to leave.

As they walked, he became aware of Anders' close proximity, a vague feeling of alarm rising in him. He brushed it off, breaking what to him had become a painful silence by telling a bad joke. Anders laughed and bumped his side good naturedly as they entered Hightown. As they drew nearer the Hawke estate, his pulse quickened, suddenly fearful of Anders reasons for accompanying him home. It was a long walk back to Darktown, especially for a rebel apostate...

They reached Hawke's door, Anders crowding him from behind as he fumbled the key in the lock. A heavy grip on his shoulder spun him around and Anders was suddenly pressing himself to Hawke, forcing his back into the door as he captured Morgan's face in his hands and pressed his lips to his in a desperate kiss. His mind still fogged by drink, moments passed before he could raise his hands to shove gently against the mage's chest to separate them. 

Anders look went from surprised confusion to derisive understanding, passing so quickly Morgan thought he might have imagined it.

"I thought this is what you wanted Hawke. You practically threw yourself at me tonight. You know I've been attracted to you since we met, why are you doing this now?"

"I'm sorry Anders. I've had too much to drink, I wasn't thinking."

"It's that damned elf isn't it?" Anders sneered. "He rejected you Hawke. Don't think I don't know. When are you going to realize he's never coming back to you? You don't have to be alone anymore, I'm here and I would never leave you."

"I'm sorry Anders, but I don't feel that way about you. I never have. I told you that years ago. I wish you'd believed me then."

"Well I didn't. I still don't but it's clear to me you'd rather pine for someone unworthy of your affections than find happiness with someone who wants you. You're a foolish man. One day you'll wake up and realize what you threw away but by then it'll be too late."

With that, Anders stormed off, his anger carrying him away faster than Morgan had believed possible given how much he'd drank. Groaning at his own stupidity, he let himself in and sank to the floor, his back pressed to the wall, burrying his face in his lap. 

Anders was right, he was a fool. Fenris was no closer to him now than he'd been the night they'd spent together. If not for his traitorous heart which refused to give up, he could have easily fallen into Anders arms. But he also knew he would never feel for Anders what he felt for Fenris and despite his loneliness, he knew it wasn't worth the brief end to loneliness such weakness could provide.

A soft knock at the door startled him, but he wasn't quick enough to answer before it opened and Fenris stepped through. Seeing Hawke on the floor had him reaching for him, drawing him to his feet and leading him to a chair in the study. It wasn't until after Fenris had pressed a glass of water into his hand and settled himself in a chair beside him that he thought to speak. 

"Fenris? I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I mean, thank you for the water and getting me off the floor and all, but what are you doing here?"

"I was thinking."

Morgan arched an eyebrow. 

"I was on my way here when I saw you arrive with the mage."

"I was drunk." Morgan blurted, fearful of Fenris' judgement. 

The elf's mouth quirked. "I gathered that and would have left you to your privacy had the mage's posture not changed as you attempted to open your door."

"It was my fault." Morgan stammered, embarrassed and ashamed by what Fenris had seen.

"I doubt that Hawke." He chided. "Now stop interrupting and let me finish. I heard everything. I heard what the abomination offered you and I heard your reply. Is what he said true? Do you still desire me after all this time?"

Morgan nodded, not trusting himself to speak. 

"Then why have you not said anything? Have you really not sought the comfort of another since that night we shared?"

"I've thought about it." He retorted. "But no I haven't."

"I was unprepared for my reaction to our evening. I'd wanted to be with you but I underestimated how it would affect me. For a long time I have wanted to ask your forgiveness but I knew you would not grant it as you would say there's nothing to forgive."

"Because there isn't."

Fenris slid to his knees then and placed himself before him, gathering Morgan's hands in his own. "I would return to you now, if you still wish it. I cannot promise I will not make mistakes, but I will never leave your side again."

"Are you sure? I hate to say it or ask it of you, but you're not doing this just to keep Anders away are you? Because if you are, I won't agree. I need to know you are doing this because you want to Fenris, not because you feel you have to or you feel you owe it to me."

Fenris chuckled though his eyes remained serious. "As much as it will please me to thwart the mage, he has nothing to do with this. I said I was on my way here before you arrived with Anders yes?"

Morgan nodded. 

"This is why."

His hands suddenly slick with sweat, Morgan tugged him closer as he tried to form words around the lump in his throat. 

"I hope I'm not dreaming all this, but yes Fenris. I want you with me, more than anything. Now and for as long as you want to stay. Hopefully a long time."

"Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you Hawke."

"Morgan. Call me Morgan."

"Very well." Fenris whispered before crushing their lips together in a gentle kiss. "Morgan."


End file.
